


So Call Me Maybe

by someofthissomeofthat11011



Category: Love Victor (TV 2020)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25034464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someofthissomeofthat11011/pseuds/someofthissomeofthat11011
Summary: What if Simon had sent a message while Benji had Victor’s phone in that Call Me Maybe scene?
Relationships: Benjamin "Benji" Campbell/Victor Salazar
Comments: 11
Kudos: 241





	So Call Me Maybe

For a minute, I forget to be afraid. In the midst of rump-shaking, bad dancing, and laughter, it’s easy to forget about the reality waiting for me after this song ends. I let myself get swept away in the nostalgia of the song and the jubilant energy of this moment.

Benji dances with way too much rump and way too much arm which has me swept away in a haze that makes me feel limitless, carefree, and like I live in a world full of possibilities. I don’t dance as eccentrically as he does, but I dance out-of-my-comfort-zone enough that I get that giddy feeling from doing something so ridiculous.

I muse at how easy this moment is. I’m not a particularly introverted person, but I usually care a lot about what other people think and usually live within my comfort zone. With Benji, it’s easy to be a little goofy and let go of my overwhelming need to please people. Plus, I finally get to enjoy a break from the not-so-easy-to-listen-to easy listening music that’s been playing my whole shift.

It’s an amazing combination, and I think I would like to live in this carefree moment with Benji. It’s like we’re the only two people in this world that exist.

I’m pulled from my moment as the music fades so my phone can ding with a message alert. I expect it to be Mia, and just like that, my reality is back. My reality where this isn’t some special moment with Benji and where the first girl I’ve ever liked is waiting for me.

“You’ve got a message from… Simon Spier?” Benji’s eyes knit together as he looks at my phone. “How do you know Simon?”

“Oh… I… uh…” I have absolutely no clue what to say. How can I possibly explain this? What reason could I, some random new kid who never knew the Creekwood that Simon inhabited, have to reach out to Simon Spier? Benji looks at me curiously. “I sort of reached out to him after my first day here when I heard his story and how he seemed to have this big impact on the school.”

Benji nods. “Simon changed a lot of things. I was in eighth grade when he was a senior and it rippled all the way to the middle school,” Benji explains. “You can’t imagine what that was like. Kids were making these grand declarations and sharing these really personal things about themselves. I really thought he was going to change things forever and I guess, in some ways, he did. Except, after some time, it began to feel different. It stopped being so much about declaring who you are and became more about shocking people. Maybe that’s just how I felt because I wasn’t comfortable with those big moments.”

“Really?” I ask. “You don’t like big moments?” I have a lot of trouble believing that.

Benji frowns. “It’s not that. It’s… Simon’s declaration was this big moment where he acknowledged that he’d been outed and decided to own it. He’d already been in the spotlight, and his big moment was, from my perspective, his way of reclaiming that. It wasn’t just a declaration for the sake of a declaration. It was meaningful and real.” He shakes his head and moves to another table. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m missing the point and all those posts were a really great thing; maybe we’re really lucky to live in a place where something like this happened that allowed people to express themselves; maybe they made me uncomfortable because I wasn’t at that place with myself. What I do know is I came out and for most of the kids at school, that’s all I am. I’m Benji, the gay kid. I’m not Benji, the mediocre barista, okay guitar player, and hopeless romantic. Someone posts their secret and attaches their name to it, and that’s all we know about them. I think there’s something to be said for how Simon went about it and how he inspired other people to be themselves, but I think what made it so special was he brought it into real life as well. He rode that Ferris wheel until his boo showed up. There was more to his story.”

“Huh, I guess I haven’t heard that side of it,” I admit. “Most people here talk about it like it was just a declaration of love.”

“What did Simon have to say about it?” he asks curiously. “I’ve always wanted to ask.”

“Oh, you know. We didn’t really talk about it,” I admit. I wonder why we haven’t talked about it; this is the first I’m hearing about it. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t know to ask or if he doesn’t want to talk about it, but he hasn’t shared much about himself.

“What do you talk about with him?” Benji questions. He’s wiping off another table, and I don’t think he understands how much of a loaded question that is. I’m still trying to think of a good excuse when he finishes the table and turns to me. “Everything okay?”

I nod. “It’s just… I messaged Simon about something really personal. Something that I haven’t told anyone, and maybe that sounds really dumb… that I’m talking to a complete stranger about this, but…”

“No, I get it,” Benji says. “Sometimes it’s easier that way. The first person I came out to was this guy dressed up as Dolly Parton in Dollywood.” He moves to another table. In the back of my head, I register that the division of labor is really unfair right now; however, the idea of having to split my attention and potentially say something I don’t want to say has me rooted in place.

“No way. I didn’t peg you for a Dolly Parton stan,” I say. I feel like this is the opposite of what I’d expect from him, but he had a point before. Before my shift today, the only thing I had known about him was that he is gay… and that he has great taste in shoes.

“Dolly Parton is timeless. It’s the one thing that dads and gay sons can agree upon,” he says. He cleans another table as if it’s no big deal to refer to himself as the gay son. It has my heart pounding, so I’m not sure how he can be so casual about it.

“Hey, can I ask you something kind of personal?”

“Of course.” He has this really serious look on his face.

“When did you know you were…” I start but cut myself off. I cannot ask him this.

“What? A phenomenal guitar player? An amazing barista? Ruggedly handsome?” he asks jokingly.

“No,” I admit.

He shakes his head. “No, I know what you want to know. When I knew I was gay, right?” he probes. I nod. “You know, I get that question a lot. I usually tell people it’s none of their business. Why should I give you a different answer?”

“Because I’m really trying to understand. This stuff is so new to me. I didn’t know a single person that was out in Texas. I’m really trying to get this world that you and Simon live in and how you knew you belonged to that world and not…” I sigh. “You know what? Never mind. It’s not important.”

I spray the table closest to me and don’t realize until I’m almost done wiping it down that I had already cleaned it. “Victor, we live in the same world,” he says quietly. “Straight people and gay people can occupy the same world. It’s not like we’re inducted into a secret society and then flown off to Mars.”

“No, I know.” I’m explaining this all wrong. I should just quit while I’m ahead. I focus on cleaning the table because apparently the third time's the charm with this particular table.

“I don’t like to answer this question because I don’t really know. I’ve always known I was different,” he discloses. “Ever since I was little. I don’t remember when I realized that difference was me being gay, but… I remember getting older and hating that I was gay and thinking that maybe I could force myself not to be gay.”

I force myself to move to a different table. “Why did you hate it?” I ask.

“Being gay? It’s this whole thing,” he explains. “I had to come out to everyone I knew, which was so exhausting. If you ever think you need more friends, think about coming out and you’ll realize you have way too many people in your life. And there are all the people you haven’t met yet but who might become a really big part of your life. And it’s like, I never know how someone will take it. And I’m constantly afraid for myself. If I go out with my boyfriend in public, I never know what’s going to happen. I have to be really careful if I hold his hand or show any kind of affection towards him. Nothing could happen, or we could be harassed, or something worse could happen. I didn’t ask to be gay, and I fought it for as long as I could.”

“I’m sorry.” I clean a table, a different one this time. I give up on trying to clean, sit on the table, and face him. My legs swing just a little bit as I adjust. “That sounds really shitty.”

He shrugs. “I’m not really proud of who I was before I came out. Being gay may be this whole thing, but it’s my thing. I didn’t ask to be gay, but I think a lot of people are handed a life they didn’t ask for. Would being straight be easier? Yes. Would it be possible for me? No. So, now I embrace it.”

“You’ve never been attracted to a girl?” I ask.

He frowns. I guess he’s decided wiping down tables is overrated because he sits down as well. He wraps the towel around his hand and unwraps it. Then rewraps it and unwraps it. I don’t try to interrupt his thoughts. “Not in the same way,” he finally answers. “It’s not like I’m repelled by girls. I can recognize when a girl is good looking, and I can have feelings for a girl, but they’re not romantic feelings. It’s surprisingly easy to confuse friendship with love.” He looks up at the ceiling. “It’s even easier to convince yourself until you experience the real deal. For me, the real deal was this kid named Robert. We went to a STEM camp together one summer.”

“Let me guess: Robert was the hottest guy you’d ever met?” I’m trying to ease the tension, and it works because Benji laughs a little. It doesn’t totally eliminate the nervous energy between us, but it’s something.

“No, not even close. He was cute, but in a sweater vest kind of way.” Benji gets this far-off look in his eyes and has a smile on his face. “He was kind of dorky and was incredibly clumsy. He spent half of the summer in a sling because he’d tripped over thin air while running and hurt his shoulder. I didn’t care about any of that stuff. I felt more in a single conversation with him than I’ve ever felt kissing or having sex with girls.”

I don’t know what part of that to focus on. Should I be trying to figure out if the butterflies in my stomach are the result of Benji or from the anxiety of this weird conversation we’re having? Should I be comparing how I feel right now with Benji to how I feel with Mia? Should I be thinking about how he’s had sex with girls?

I choose the latter because it’s the easiest thing to address, and it doesn’t require me to think about my complicated life. “You’ve… but you’re…”

“Yeah. Turns out sexuality is not so much a straight line that points to your preference, but it’s a Cirque du Soleil show that’s long, confusing, and takes you all over the place,” he explains.

“Like that chain hang low challenge on TikTok,” I provide. Now that tune is stuck in my head.

“Sure,” he concedes uncertainly.

“No, really. It was trending for a while. It was like…” I finally see the incredulous look on his face. “Not important at all.”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a TikTok guy,” he says.

I shrug. “It’s nice to escape from reality every now and then.” It actually used to be an addiction; back in Texas, I could kill on entire Saturday on TikTok. I’ve really cut back.

“Yeah? And what do you have to escape from?” he asks. I fidget uncomfortably and he adds, “come on. I told you some of my stuff. It’s your turn. It doesn’t have to be anything big.”

I really have to think. After what we’ve been talking about, there’s only one thing on my mind. I think about Simon and the message that’s waiting for me. I’m not ready to open that can of worms. “Well… it’s kind of like I moved here from Texas in the middle of the year and left behind the only life I’ve ever lived. In Texas… who you are is decided for you. I thought this would be a fresh start, a chance to be who I could never be in Texas. And I’m trying to figure out who I am and what’s important to me. I don’t know. It sounds kind of ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he disagrees. He doesn’t say anything else and somehow, that’s what I need to keep going.

“I’m terrified of not fitting in, but I worry that by fitting in, I’ll become someone that I don’t want to be,” I express. “Did you ever feel that way?”

“All the time,” he confirms. “And I got there. I became someone I hated because I thought I hated who I really was.” He starts to twist the towel around his hand again. “Victor, why are you asking me these questions?”

I shrug. I should be able to tell him that I’m still figuring stuff out, but the words are impossible to get out. 

I’m trying to figure out how to ask Benji for my phone back so I can escape this awkward conversation I started when he continues speaking, “It always surprised me how hard it was to actually say the words. Even now, they’re hard to get out. When I’m saying, ‘I’m gay’ to someone, and it’s the first time they’re hearing it, I’m terrified. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve lived with your truth. Telling other people is never easy. I don’t know what your thing is that you can’t talk about, but if you ever feel like you’re ready to tell someone, I’m here.”

“Thanks.”

For a moment, I think I might tell him. But then my phone dings. “It’s your Ferris wheel boo,” he says. And the moment’s over. “What’s the deal with you two, anyway?”

“Uh… I don’t know really. We’re hanging out tomorrow. As more than friends, I guess. In a date sort of way,” I tell him. Wow, I don’t think there’s a worse way of describing that. If he notices how nervous I am, he doesn’t say anything.

“You should bring her here tomorrow for Battle of the Bands. And then cheer for my band. Very loudly. I’m very insecure,” he explains. He’s smiling, so I’m not sure if he actually means that. I’m too distracted to think too much about that.

I have absolutely no clue how I feel about Mia, but I know I’m never going to figure it out if Benji is crashing our date. “Actually, we have other plans. Sorry.”

And now I need to figure out other plans. I feel like I need to tell someone about the confusion that manifested itself today, so I respond to Simon’s message. I don’t know if he’ll see it before tomorrow, but I really hope he has some advice about what I should do.

Simon doesn’t answer me, and I end up taking Mia to this god-awful art exhibit. It’s seriously the first worst date ever. We find a place to sit down so I can apologize profusely and… we kiss.

And I feel something. It’s like tiny butterflies fluttering in my stomach and this feeling of comfort that spreads throughout me. Sure, it’s not fireworks or explosions, but is it supposed to be? I’ve always wondered if those were ideologies of fiction concocted to add some flair to a story. Maybe this is as good as it gets. I don’t think I’d mind. I like it.

While Mia’s in the bathroom, I send Simon a message. As I write, I really believe that I can make things work with Mia. I mean, I’m surprised by how much I enjoy kissing her and how much I want to kiss her again. I’m wondering what this means for me. I don’t know if Mia is the exception or the rule.

We get to Battle of the Bands just in time to watch Benji sing _Call Me Maybe_. My heart is pounding in my chest, and his voice wraps around me like a warm blanket. The song drowns out the rest of the world, and I feel like I did as we were closing up last night – like the only people in the world that exist are me and Benji. I swear, he’s looking right at me as he sings.

At least, I thought he was looking at me. When he jumps off the stage and immediately kisses someone, I realize he was probably looking at his boyfriend the entire time.

Maybe it means something that I feel this tightness in my chest, as if I’ve just lost something I never really had. I’m choosing to ignore it because he has a boyfriend, so what’s the point in obsessing over it?

I guess I shouldn’t be blindsided that he has a boyfriend. In retrospect, he talked about having a boyfriend last night. I’d just assumed that he meant in a general when-he-had a boyfriend way and not in a currently-has-a-boyfriend way.

Saturday is such a weird day for me. I expect things to be so weird with Benji at work, but I feel like they’re almost smoother than they’ve been the last couple of days. Without me having to try to sort out if I have feelings for him, the pressure is off.

I feel weird when Derek calls him and Benji answers the call with, “Hey, handsome, what’s up?” I don’t think it's jealousy or anything… I think this idea of being out and proud is all so new to me. He’s working, so he’s not on the phone long. Plus, it’s kind of what we call our coffee “rush hour”. Brasstown is packed with people looking for their midday pick-me-up, so he’s back in no time.

As things start to slow down, we get to just talk.

“How’d your date with Mia go?” he asks. He’s cleaning the counter for the bagillionth time. I’ve gotten a lot better at making coffee over the last week; however, when we’re rushing we’re both a little messy (okay, it’s mostly me, but he pretends it’s both of us, so I’m going to do the same).

“Uh… it could have been better,” I admit. “I took her to this art exhibit that ended up being kind of terrible. So, we came here for Battle of the Bands. I liked your encore. Are you ready to admit that _Call Me Maybe_ is actually not terrible?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I couldn’t get it out of my head after we danced to it,” he explains. “We’ve been looking for a new song to do and when I pitched it to my band, they all agreed. It came together really quickly. You thought it sounded okay?”

“Yeah. I thought it was okay.” Okay is absolutely not a strong enough adjective. “You have a really incredible singing voice, and I love what you did with the arrangement.” Too much, Victor. “I mean, it was cool.” There we go.

“Thanks,” Benji says with a big smile on his face.

“How long have you been singing for?” I ask.

“According to my mom? Since birth. The first time I sang in public was for choir in elementary school,” he explains. “I’ve always loved music.”

“And guitar?” I question curiously.

“My dad bought me guitar lessons when I was twelve. I think his exact words were, ‘this will really help you with the ladies’,” Benji says humorlessly. “I thought I was going to hate it, but I fell in love with the guitar. And I picked up on it quickly. I feel… human when I play guitar.”

“That’s really great that you have an outlet like that,” I observe.

“Do you have anything like that?” He asks.

“I think the closest thing I have to that is basketball,” I say after thinking about it for a moment. “No matter what’s going on in my life, basketball has been a really great way to get it all out.”

“I know what you mean,” he maintains. “I started going to the gym a little after I came out and it’s really empowering. I wish Derek would go with me once in a while.”

“He doesn’t like the gym?” I wonder.

“He doesn’t like anything that he considers unnecessary exercise,” Benji elaborates. “Hey, you wouldn’t want to go sometime, would you?”

“I don’t know,” I deflect.

“I can bring a guest for free,” he adds. “It would be nice not to have to trust a random person at the gym to spot me.”

“I’ve got a lot going on with basketball practice but maybe once the season is over.” I’m really hoping that he forgets about this before then. I don’t know why, but the idea of a sweaty Benji in one of his tight shirts that show off all of his muscles is making my heart thump as if I just went for a run. I change the subject. “Do you like any sports?”

We talk about small, safe things the rest of my shift. It’s easy to talk to him, and I realize he’s a really cool guy as I get to know him. There’s so much more to Benji than meets the eye.

When I get home after work, I expect to start some homework, but Pilar and my mom are fighting again. She’s been picking fights since we moved, but this one seems more hostile than usual. Pilar actually looks pissed about something, instead of just fed up with everything.

I break up their fight with a slightly (or majorly) dramatized version of an argument that broke out between two patrons a few minutes after I got to work. It has them both cackling and pretty soon, Pilar retires to her room.

Sunday is somehow weirder than Saturday. When Pilar isn’t picking a fight with our mom, she’s blasting angry music. I manage the fighting okay, but I’m powerless against the music. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but it goes on through all of Monday and Tuesday morning as well. She blasts her music until almost 1am, just to spite my mom. I’m really impressed that we didn’t get a noise complaint. I manage to hold myself together until I get to work, but it all comes tumbling out of me with my first spilled latte of the night. “Shit,” I grumble. “I don’t fucking need this tonight.” I’m louder than I mean to be and the person that ordered the drink gives me a nasty look.

Benji ushers me into the back with a towel and orders me to stay here. I’m still trying to figure out if Benji has the power to fire me when he returns. “I comped them their latte and told them you were having a bad night.” I follow him back up front. We don’t have anyone in line and there’s only a handful of people scattered throughout the tables. “Do you want to talk about it?””

“I’m just having a really bad day,” I tell him. I don’t look him in the eye when I say that.

“You started cussing at a spilled latte,” Benji points out. “That’s not just a bad day. What’s going on?”

I don’t know if I want to talk about it, but I feel like I’m actually going to explode if I keep this to myself. “My sister and my mom are constantly fighting, okay? When they’re not fighting, Pilar is in her room blasting what my Abuela Nati calls Satan music. I had a lot of trouble sleeping last night because her music was so loud and even when she turned it off… I’m really worried about her. This isn’t like her,” I finally tell him.

“What are they fighting about?” Benji asks.

“That’s the weird thing. Pilar is just picking fights with her left and right. She’s dressing in clothes that she knows my mom doesn’t like and is doing things she knows my mom hates. The moment my mom calls her out, it’s like World War 3. I do my best to stop them when they’re arguing, but Pilar’s never been like this before.” I shake my head. “At first, I thought it was her stress from the move, but I don’t know. It feels different.”

“Have you tried talking to her?” he probes.

“Sort of. She’s not the easiest person to approach when she’s in one of her moods,” I rationalize.

He shrugs. “I don’t have siblings, so I really don’t know what that’s like, but if I think back to my drown-out-the-world-with-music phase, I felt like I was all alone. Maybe all she wants is for someone to ask her about it.”

“I just… Pilar usually talks to me. She’s always been moody with our parents, but she’s never kept something from me… at least, not something that’s bothering her this much. I guess I’m just out of practice with how to bring it up.” I feel weirdly nostalgic, and it takes me a minute to realize that’s one of the things I miss about Texas. Pilar and I were a team in Texas. She had my back and I had hers. I feel like that dynamic has changed since we moved.

“For what it’s worth, I think she’s really lucky to have a brother like you. You obviously care a lot about her.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly.

“Is that everything that’s been bothering you?” he wonders.

No, of course not. There’s the whole crippling fear because I have absolutely no clue who I am or who I like thing. But I’m not going to tell Benji that. “Well, we have a really big game on Friday. I think I’m just a little nervous. It’s my first basketball game here. I used to get so nervous before every game back in Texas.” It’s true. I am a little nervous about the game but that’s really been put on the backburner.

“Do you have any pre-game rituals?”

“Uh… eat lots of carbs, drink lots of water, and try not to throw up.”

He chuckles. “Not really what I meant but close enough. Your game’s on Friday?”

I nod. “Yeah. It’s against Whitman, which is apparently a very big deal.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he admits. “I’m off on Friday. I’ll see if I can drag Derek to your game.”

I feel simultaneously flattered and uncomfortable. Uncomfortable wins out. “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” I tell him. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of basketball.”

He shrugs. “I want to go. You’re my friend,” he reminds me.

I look away from him because I’m pretty sure I’m suddenly sporting a cheesy smile, but I can’t get it off my face. “Thanks.”

When I get home from work, Felix comes over. My mom is making a sign for my game, and Pilar is in the same grumpy mood she’s been in all week. When she calls our mom “nasty” during her dinner blessing, I know something’s really wrong.

I grab her a slice of pizza and follow her to her room.

“Go away,” she calls when I knock on her door.

I open her door just a little bit. “I brought you the last slice of sausage.” When she sits up, I walk in.

“What’s your deal? This can’t be about the posters.”

“Of course not,” she states indignantly. “Victor? Mom had an affair.”

No way. There’s no way. This is absolutely not possible.

Of course, Pilar has proof. I’m grasping at straws to figure out how my mom could have the messages she has on her Facebook and still have not had an affair.

I tell Pilar that maybe it’s just some random stalker. They pop up on Facebook all the time. Pilar seems doubtful, and if I’m being honest, so am I.

I leave her a few minutes later because there’s nothing I can do to convince her that mom must be innocent.

I’m distracted all day. It’s like I’m moving on autopilot. I find Pilar at school after lunch the next day. “Hey, even though there’s no way mom… did anything, we deserve answers.”

“Damn. Mom’s little golden boy turned on her.” She could at least sound like she’s not enjoying this.

“I just want to prove that he’s some random stalker. Once we do that, we can move on from this whole mess,” I stress. “Should we just ask her who he is?”

“No way. She’d just make up some lie,” she answers immediately.

“You don’t know that,” I argue.

“Exactly. We don’t know. If we ask her about it, we have no way of knowing if she’s telling the truth,” she retorts.

She’s got me there. “Then what do we do?”

“I’ve already been doing it. I’ve been messaging him as mom. And get this. He’s coming to Atlanta for a conference on Friday and wants to meet up with her,” she explains.

“That’s not good,” I agree.

“The only conference he’s trying to attend is in mom’s pants.” I really don’t need to hear this. “I think we should go meet up with him in her place. Before you say no…”

“Let’s do it,” I cut her off. “Let’s go meet up with this guy and prove, once and for all, that he’s no one.”

“Really?” she questions as if she expects me to change my mind.

“Really.”

That evening at work, Benji asks me for the almond milk three times before I hear him. Then, I’m staring into one of our measuring cups, and I don’t realize he wants it until he takes it from me.

It’s a really good thing we’re having a particularly slow day because Benji’s practically working by himself right now.

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m useless today.”

He pours milk into the measuring cup and finishes making his drink. He hands it to a really tall man before he turns to look at me. “Still worried about Pilar?” he asks.

“Not exactly. I, uh… talked to her last night.”

“What is she pregnant or something?” He says it so casually, like it would be no big deal.

“What? She’s fourteen. No, she’s not pregnant,” I say.

He puts his hands up in the air. “You never know. I was just asking,” he says calmly.

“She thinks my mom is cheating on my dad,” I tell him. It’s the first time I’m saying it out loud and it actually feels kind of good to get it off my chest. “But that’s impossible because my mom is really religious. There’s no way she could cheat on my dad.”

“Then why does your sister think she did?” he questions.

“She was setting up my mom’s Facebook and this guy messaged her about how much he misses her and how he wants to see her. Pilar’s been answering him as if she’s our mom and we’re supposed to meet him on Friday. But, it’s got to be some random stalker, right?” I plead.

Benji doesn’t look at me. “Maybe.” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know he doesn’t believe his words. “What are you going to do if it’s not some random stalker?”

“I have no clue,” I answer honestly.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asks.

I look at him surprised. I think it’s so sweet that he would do that for us. “No, but thank you. I think this is something the two of us have to do on our own.”

“What does Mia have to say about all of this?” he asks.

“Oh… I didn’t tell her. You’re the only one other than Pilar that knows,” I admit.

He looks surprised and I wonder if I should have thought to tell her this. There really ought to be a relationship manual. “Why didn’t you tell her?” he asks curiously.

I shrug. “I don’t know. Everything is still so new with her.” I don’t even know if that’s a good excuse. I usually feel like I can talk to Mia about anything but after learning about her mom? This just feels petty.

He nods. “I get that. Beginnings are hard for relationships. You want to live in that happy, nothing can touch you phase as long as possible.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be going to the game, so if you need to talk before it, I’m free,” he offers.

“You got Derek to agree to go to the game?” I’m genuinely surprised. “I thought he believed sports are… heteronormative bullshit?” When Benji doesn’t laugh, I wonder if I said the wrong thing. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“We got into a fight,” he admits.

I don’t know if it’s really egotistical to assume the fight was over my game. “About what?”

Benji sighs. “He never wants to do the stuff I want to do,” he explains.

“Like go to my game? I really hope that didn’t cause problems.”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s not just your game. He thinks the things I like to do are cheesy or too ‘high school’, whatever that means. I do so much stuff that I hate because it’s important to him, but it’s starting to feel like he’s not reciprocating.” He puts his hands on the counter, bends his knees, and ducks his head for a minute. “I guess, I want things to work out with Derek. We became friends a little before I came out. He was my secret crush, and I hadn’t dealt with it well. I feel like sometimes he still sees that person. The one who…” he cuts himself off.

“Was sleeping with girls?” I guess.

He shakes his head. “No, not that. I want to tell you, that’s the crazy thing.” Someone walks up to the counter to order some coffee. I almost forgot that we’re working. “If you’re not too sick of coffee, would you want to grab a coffee after we close and talk?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” My stomach is doing somersaults.

I really try to focus on work after that, but my mind keeps going back to Benji… and the coffee we’re going to be getting after work… and how it feels so much like a date, except he has a boyfriend and I have a girlfriend. Still, I feel like anything could happen tonight. I know that should scare me, and part of it does, but it mostly excites me.

It feels like such a long time before Benji is flipping the sign on the front door of the shop. It’s so strange that I could barely focus on coffee during my shift because it seems so easy as I make us our drinks.

I hand Benji the coffee and lean against the outside of the counter. “Mmm… coffee definitely tastes better with mocha,” he says.

“I used to hate the taste of coffee,” I tell him. “But it was like once other kids started drinking coffee, I had to drink it as well. There’s not much room to be different in Texas. Even this was the radical decision.”

“Mocha coffee is radical?” he asks skeptically.

“You’d be surprised,” I laugh. “I’ve had the same haircut all my life, I’ve worn roughly the same style, and I had the same group of friends up until I moved. It’s not that I didn’t want to dabble with different things, but where I’m from, even dabbling is this huge deal.”

“Maybe Texas and Atlanta aren’t so different,” Benji says. “No matter where you are, other people are the biggest obstacle to being yourself. I know they say that you shouldn’t care what other people think, but I think sometimes that means choosing between loneliness and companionship.”

I look at him amazed. “Yeah. That’s the perfect way of describing it.”

“I can’t take full credit. I stole that line from someone,” he admits sheepishly. I assume he got it from one of his bandmates until he gets a nervous look on his face. “When I was in therapy, the woman I worked with would say stuff like that all the time. She felt it was human nature to want to be part of a tribe.”

“You were in therapy? That’s cool.”

“Yeah. I got a lot out of it. It was… court mandated.” He’s tracing his thumb along the edge of his coffee cup. He sits down on one of the tables.

“Oh.” I hesitate a moment before I sit down next to him. “What happened?”

“Before I came out, I was… kind of a mess. I knew I was gay, but I didn’t want to be. So, I drank… a lot. I don’t know why exactly. It was my way of avoiding, I guess. Or maybe it made it easier to pretend that I was into the girls I was seeing. One night, a couple of months after I got my license, I got super wasted. I decided I wanted Wendy’s real bad. So, I took my dad’s car to the drive-thru and… I drove through… the Wendy’s.”

It takes me a minute to understand what he means. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Luckily no one was hurt. I was too drunk to realize it was after Wendy’s closed. But I totaled my dad’s car, accumulated a mountain of fines, got a ton of community service, got court-mandated therapy, and I had my license suspended for eighteen months. Don’t drink and drive kids.” I think it’s his attempt at humor, but neither of us laugh.

“Wow. That’s intense.” I turn just a little so I’m facing him instead of sitting by his side. “Were… were you okay?”

“Yeah. I was just a little banged up. Waking up in the hospital with my parents standing over me, I realized I could have died without ever really being who I was. So that’s when I came out. To everyone. Even then, I was scared all the time. My therapist helped a lot. She helped me see that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be accepted, but at the end of the day you have to decide who you want to like more – yourself or other people. I decided to focus on myself.” I nod. My mind is spinning. “Hey, no one at school really knows about the accident…”

“I won’t say anything,” I promise. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah, of course.” He’s giving me a look that has my heart fluttering like a baby bird taking flight for the first time.

I look down at my hands. “For what it’s worth, I’m really glad that you were okay after all of that. I think you’re pretty great exactly the way you are.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I wish Derek felt that way.”

“I’m sure he does,” I tell him. I’ve only met him once, but he seemed crazy enough about Benji. “How long have you guys been together?”

“We’ve almost been together a year, but…”

“But?” I press.

“I’m starting to wonder if he’s really my person, you know?” Benji looks like he’s confessing to murder.

I think of Mia. “Yeah, I really do.” We sip at our coffee in silence for a minute. “Was it hard? Coming out to Derek and everyone at school?”

Benji frowns. “It was different… coming out to my parents was a little more spontaneous. I woke up, realized I had almost died, and before I had time to think about my decision, I came out. It was weirdly hard to tell Derek. Part of it was that I had way too much time to think about what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it. He’s two years older than me and he came out before I met him. I think that was intimidating. You know? It seemed like he had all his shit together. Still, after the accident, he was the first person at school that I came out to. The rest came easy. Within a couple of weeks, I’d told Derek everything about that accident. Then, we started dating. At the time, I felt so lucky to have someone that accepted my baggage. That seemed like enough for me.” He sighs. “Sorry. I don’t mean to unload that on you.”

“No, it’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m glad you did.”

“You are so easy to talk to. I’m really glad you started working here.”

“Me too. You’re easy to talk to too.” Suddenly, _tell him, tell him, tell him_ , is bouncing around in my head on repeat. Simultaneously, it feels like there’s an insurmountable mountain in between me and the words I need to come out to him.

I study Benji for a minute. If I can tell anyone, I can tell him. I start to say, “do you remember–” at the same time that Benji says, “we should probably start to clean up.”

“What was that?” he asks me.

“Nothing. You’re right. We should clean up.” I hop off of my table and he grabs my wrist. For a moment, I expect it to be like I’ve seen in the movies where he’ll pull me towards him, and we’ll kiss. That visual hits me hard and hits me fast; I’m almost breathless.

This isn’t a movie, so that’s not what happens. Instead, he asks, “Victor, what were you going to say?”

He’s still holding my arm, and it’s like a slap to the face – but not in a bad way, if that’s even possible. I feel this tingly sensation in my arm, as if there’s actual electricity between us. I know it’s all in my head, but Benji’s words from last week come back to me. _It’s surprisingly easy to confuse friendship with love. It’s even easier to convince yourself until you experience the real deal._

What if this strange feeling means that Benji is the real deal? If this is what it feels just to have him touch me, what would kissing him feel like? What would other stuff feel like? I realize he has a boyfriend, so I’ll likely never find out. Then again, things with him and Derek aren’t going well. Maybe there’s a chance.

I cannot even believe I just thought that. I feel like I just woke up from a long hibernation – as if I’m disoriented and trying to make sense of my environment after so long of being oblivious to it. “Just that I think I’m starting to realize who I am. I’m not ready to talk about it right now, but I hope to share it with you soon.”

It’s not enough, but it’s something. Tonight belongs to him and everything he shared. Maybe another night will be my night.

He nods and STILL has not let go of my arm. He seems to realize this and finally lets me go. He grabs a spray bottle and starts cleaning tables like nothing of significance just happened. And maybe for him, it wasn’t significant.

For me, I still feel the phantom grip of his hand on my wrist.

I’m not working Thursday (thank goodness!), so I don’t have to worry about screwing up drink orders as the anticipation of our undercover mission (Pilar’s words, not mine) becomes overwhelming.

I’m simultaneously dreading and looking forward to Friday. I need answers, but I’m terrified that they’re not going to be the answers I want.

I feel like Pilar must be able to hear my heart beating as we walk into the hotel lobby and look around for someone that resembles a Roger.

My heart doesn’t slow down after we wrongfully accost a man waiting for his wife. I thought maybe that would be it.

Then I see him.

My dad’s old boss.

He’s sitting in a chair with a bouquet of flowers looking around for someone; he’s looking for our mom.

And it’s suddenly like everything I’ve ever believed has shattered. My mom is not the perfect mother I thought she was. We’re not the loving and close-knit family I thought we were. Nothing is as it seems.

I’m grateful when Pilar agrees to leave without talking to him. We got our proof. We don’t need more.

Pilar goes home, but I take the bus to the closest stop to school. I can’t face my mom right now. I understand why Pilar’s always fighting with our mom. The anger that is consuming me makes me feel like I could punch something. Maybe Lake had a point after my first day of school. Maybe I do have a short fuse.

I only have a few minutes until I have to be in the locker room, but the idea of going straight there makes me feel like I’m choking on air.

I fumble with my phone when I get off of the bus. He’s waiting for me as I walk up to the school. I don’t know how he got here so fast.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey. You okay?” Benji asks uncertainly.

“Are you?” I ask. I get a good look at him and the area around his eyes is just slightly red.

He nods. “What happened?”

I bite my lip and shake my head. “She cheated on him with my dad’s boss.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. Here. Come sit down.” I let him guide me to the half wall because it’s easier than figuring out what to do for myself. “Are you sure?”

“It can’t be a coincidence. My dad’s boss from Texas was sitting in a hotel with this huge bouquet of flowers and wine.” I shake my head. I’m never going to get that image out of my head. “I just thought I knew her better than anyone else, but this? His boss? I don’t see how our family can possibly survive this.”

I don’t realize I’m shaking until he hugs me. It takes me a minute because I’m so surprised, but I manage to lean into his hug. I rest my hands by his waist. That electric feeling is back, and it’s no longer confined to my wrist. It’s everywhere.

I think I understand what he meant about the real deal because I could live in his embrace.

I wish I could say Benji’s hug is the cure to my anger, but I think it only adds to it. I don’t need the added complication of whatever these feelings are; I have enough going on. It’s so unfair. How is one person supposed to deal with this?

It’s the injustice of everything.

It’s not enough that I’m still trying to figure things out for myself.

It’s not enough that I like Mia, but I’m quickly learning that I might not like her in a way that I originally thought.

It’s not enough that we moved halfway through the year to this place that was supposed to be a new start and somehow became just as conforming as Texas.

It’s not enough that Pilar is grumpy and picking fights all the time.

It’s not enough that my parents have been arguing so much more than usual. I wonder if this is what they’ve been arguing about. Could my dad know?

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that my mom cheated, and she may still be cheating. My mom, who is the first to cast stones when someone is doing something unchristian. My mom, who has stopped watching TV shows and movies if they made her have impure thoughts. My mom, who I believed was the rope that held our family together. Turns out, she’s the flame that’s going to destroy us.

Benji lets go of me. “You’re going to be okay,” he promises me.

For a split second, I think I might kiss him. I’m so full of emotions, mostly anger. And if I’m being honest, I really want to do something reckless.

But then he hops off the half wall. “I’ll see you out there. Good luck… or is it break a leg?” he asks.

“Whichever. Thanks for being here,” I tell him. I run off to the gym. I’ve never felt this out of control with my anger before. Nothing helps.

It’s only amplified when I leave the locker room and see my mom in the stands. I can’t look at her the same way anymore. I can almost see her there with Roger.

My anger is bleeding into everything. I can’t focus during the game. I can’t make a shot. I’m screwing everything up.

It bubbles out when coach tries to bench me. I can’t make myself care as I shout, “this is bullshit!” I slam down the basketball and run from the gym. I need to get out of here. I need to find somewhere where I can breathe.

I don’t notice that Benji followed me out of the gym until he calls my name. “Victor!”

I stop. He doesn’t tell me that everything is okay or that I shouldn’t be angry. He just lets my name hang in between us.

“Do you want to go somewhere? Get your mind off of this?” he asks.

Honestly, in that moment, I want nothing more than that, but I don’t think anything can actually get my head off of this.

Before I can even figure out if it’s worth subjecting Benji to my shitty mood, my mom is in the parking lot. And she’s calling ME disgraceful. ME. Because I said bullshit. As if she’s not the one that BETRAYED our family. She SLEPT with a man… a man who is NOT our dad. And I’m disgraceful? What a fucking hypocrite!

Benji backs away until he disappears completely.

“I’m disgraceful? I’m not the one having an affair behind dad’s back! You cheated on dad with his boss! Does he know?”

“Victor,” my dad says. I didn’t know he was out here. “I know. She told me everything and hey, it wasn’t easy. But she was honest.”

“Honest,” I scoff. “She slept with your boss, and you think she’s honest?”

“We are not doing this here,” my dad warns. “Not in front of your little brother. So just… get in the car. Victor, get in the car.” I want to ignore him. I want to run in the opposite direction of home. I want to run until I can’t breathe or think or feel.

I know it won’t do any good to delay the inevitable.

When we get home, they send Adrian to his bedroom and the four of us sit down. The story comes out. I cannot fathom how my dad is being so calm about this. He’s even taking some responsibility for it, which might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And then she drops the bomb. This is why we moved.

I’m furious. Everything that has gone wrong over the last month since the move, it’s all her fault. There’s no justification for cheating; there’s nothing that makes it okay.

The moment the words pop into my head, I know what I need to do. I’m right. There’s nothing that justifies cheating and in a lot of ways, I’m emotionally cheating on Mia. Or… I don’t even know if that’s a thing or if it’s a manifestation of my anger. Maybe this is just the reckless thing I need to do today.

Mia meets me at Brasstown twenty minutes after I call her. Before we walk in, I kiss her. I try to feel it. I try to feel that tingly, electric feeling that I got when Benji hugged me or when he grabbed my arm. If I can feel it, then I can go inside and tell her everything that’s happening with my mom. I can go on dating her. At least one part of my life can remain the same.

But it’s not there. I feel the same way I always feel when I kiss Mia. I feel safe and happy but not like I want to do more than kiss.

I hate this so much.

I lead Mia inside. I don’t think I can do it. How do I break up with her? I’ve never done this before.

“Look, Mia,” I say. She’s instantly on guard. Is this, like, some girl instinct? Does she know what’s coming? “I think you’re really great. Really.” I feel like the words are stuck in my chest. How do people do this? I look down at the space between us on the bench. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What?” she asks. I know she understands what I mean because her eyes get a glassy look, and I can see that they’re watering up. She’s not crying yet, but it’s still like a punch to the gut to know that this is upsetting her.

I take a deep breath. I owe her the truth. “I really wanted to like you. Because you’re beautiful and funny and I felt a connection with you the very first day I met you,” I tell her.

“Then what’s the problem?” she asks.

“I don’t like you the way you deserve to be liked by a boyfriend. I like you a lot, but as a friend. I’m really sorry.” I’m pretty sure this is the worst breakup ever. I know there’s some kind of cliché that could soften the blow and maybe make this less horrible for her, but I kind of feel like she deserves honesty. I just wish I was better at this.

A single tear slips down her cheek, and it’s like a dam breaks. She looks away from me, but I can still tell. “Is this where you tell me you hope we can still be friends?” Her voice is weirdly quiet in that creepy-too-quiet kind of way.

“No. Not until you’re ready.” I don’t know if that makes it better. “I would love to be friends with you, but I understand if that’s not something you want.”

“Is there someone else? Is that why you’re doing this?” I don’t expect that question. Maybe I should have. I think it’s the natural progression when someone you’re dating decides they don’t have romantic feelings for you.

I look down. “Yes and no. I’m not dating anyone else if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But you like someone. Who?”

I’m suddenly wishing we had ordered coffee or something because I would love some kind of distraction. I told myself I was going to be honest with her, but there should be a limit to that honesty, right? At the same time, I feel like I owe it to myself to tell her the full truth.

“Benji.”

I almost can’t believe that I got the word out and the moment I do, my heart is racing. I wish I could take it back, but that’s the thing about words. Once you put them out into the world, there’s no taking them back.

“Benji? But Benji’s a… boy… Victor, are you gay?” I don’t answer her, but I apparently don’t need to. “You’re gay? Did you know the whole time we were dating?”

I don’t miss the disgust in her voice. “I didn’t know for sure. I was… figuring stuff out.”

“So, you were using me? To figure your stuff out?”

I don’t know how to explain that that never was my intention; I never meant to use her. I don’t know how to explain to her that I really thought I liked her. “Mia, I –”

“I don’t want to hear it.” She literally runs out of Brasstown.

I sit there for a few more minutes feeling like this was the absolute worst breakup ever. There must have been a better way of explaining this, a way that wouldn’t have hurt her as much. Maybe telling her about Benji wasn’t the right move. Maybe I should have lied and said she didn’t know who I liked or told the truth and said she doesn’t really know him. Then, maybe this wouldn’t have hurt her as much.

I end up walking home. I usually take the bus home from work, but I need to clear my head.

I stay in my room most of the weekend. I pretend that I have a ton of homework, so no one really bothers me. The only time I leave is to go to work on Saturday – thank God that Benji is working on Sunday this weekend because I don’t think I can face him right now. I’m not even sure if my parents go to church on Sunday, but I know Pilar doesn’t because I can hear her music. Maybe we’re past church now that our whole family is crumbling.

I’m not actually doing homework. In truth, I’m messaging back and forth with Simon, who I’m getting serious proud dad vibes from. In every message he sends me, he tells me how proud he is and how he knows it was hard, but I made the right decision. Even if he’s totally disillusioned about my chances of having any kind of romantic relationship with Benji, he helps. A lot. For the first time, Simon talks about what it was really like for him when he realized he was gay and the lengths he went to for that secret. He essentially lost all of his friends for a period after he was outed. I’d had no idea. Benji had mentioned that he’d been outed but nothing that would have prepared me for what Simon describes.

He helps so much that I’m not even dreading school on Monday… I’m not looking forward to it, but it doesn’t fill me with the crippling fear that I was experiencing on Saturday at the thought of seeing Mia.

It’s actually like nothing has changed. I don’t know why I thought it would be so different. Maybe because I feel so different.

Felix is at my front door at 6:45, like always. I’m the one that’s running late. I don’t actually get out my front door until well after 7, so Felix runs upstairs to grab his mom’s keys. It’s actually while he’s driving me to school that I realize I need to tell him. He’s been such a great friend to me and if I’m going to tell him that I broke up with Mia so he knows why I’m not sitting with her at lunch anymore, maybe I should take it all the way and tell him everything.

The very idea renders me mute until he pulls into the parking lot. As he’s taking his keys out of the ignition, I find my voice. “I broke up with Mia.”

He closes his door and leans back against his seat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It was the right thing to do.”

“What happened?” he asks curiously.

It takes me a minute to tell him. I expect it to be easy, especially after telling Mia. Surely, she was the hardest one to tell. But this is just as difficult. “I was honest with her and I told her I have feelings for someone else… that I have feelings for… Benji?” I don’t look at Felix as I say it. “I like guys; like, I’m into them. I thought I maybe liked Mia too, but I realized I didn’t. Not in the same way. So, I ended things.”

I’m still not looking at him, so I’m caught off guard when he pulls my shoulder so I’m facing him and hugs me. Hugging him is nice. It feels similar to how kissing Mia feels. Like I’m safe.

“I really don’t know the perfect thing to say, but I’m really happy you told me. And this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“Actually, as far as perfect things to say go? That was pretty close,” I tell him. My throat suddenly feels scratchy, like I’m in danger of crying. I hear a sniffle from Felix. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying… I just packed onions for lunch.”

I can’t help but laugh and pretty soon he joins in.

“How does it feel?” he wonders. “To get all this off your chest?”

“Kind of amazing,” I tell him. “But it’s strange. I’ve told you and Mia and that seems like so much to me. There’s still so many people I need to tell.”

“Does Benji know?” he asks. I shake my head. “Well, are you going to tell him?”

“He has a boyfriend,” I remind him.

“That sucks.” He says it so casually like it’s allowed to suck. And maybe the fact that I’m crushing on some guy that’s in a committed relationship is allowed to suck.

“Yeah,” I agree. The late bell rings. “We should…”

“Get to class, yeah,” he confirms. We still make no effort to move. “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell Benji. Maybe nothing will happen, but who knows? Maybe things will work out for you.”

I nod, but I have no intention of doing that. Benji doesn’t deserve for me to come in and mess with his life. “Thanks for being so cool about this.”

He shrugs. “You’re my best friend, first and foremost. Before you’re anything else, you’re my friend. I’m here for you.”

“Thanks.” On that note, I finally manage to open his passenger door, and I slip out of his car. If I don’t get out, I know I really am going to cry.

I hear him shut his door and we walk into school. We’re really late, but he doesn’t complain. I’m so late that I can’t even get into the locker room to change.

I stop at my locker before lunch. I’m trying to kill some time because I have no clue where I’m supposed to sit.

Benji saves me from having to figure it out. He intercepts me as I finish swapping out my books and pulls me into this tiny locker alcove. “Mia found me before school this morning,” he says softly. “She told me that the two of you broke up.”

“Why would she tell you that?” I ask. I have a sinking feeling, but I can’t imagine Mia being that vindictive.

“She wanted to tell me that you’re a really great guy and that I’d be an idiot to let you go,” he explains. “I think she’s right.”

“But Derek. He’s your –”

“We broke up,” he cuts me off. “On Friday. It’s why I was at the school so early. He showed up at my house because he just assumed that I would give up what I wanted to do to go with him to his friend’s concert.”

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I ask him.

“I am,” he says honestly. “Are you?”

I really think about his question. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good.”

He leans in and kisses me. Suddenly, I understand what Simon meant when he said that kissing is more than butterflies. This is everything that’s right with the world. I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster that’s rushing towards the ground, except I really hope it will never stop. It’s so exhilarating.

I wonder if there’s a way to convince Benji that lunch is overrated and that, really, kissing him is the only sustenance I need right now.

I didn’t know what it feels like to be whole. I think I’ve been surviving with just parts of myself for such a long time. But right now, in this exact moment, I feel like Benji’s kiss has glued all those parts of me together.

It doesn’t last forever. Because we’re in school. And because we need to talk.

I need to put my cards on the table, and he needs to decide whether he’s okay with that. “There’s something you need to know. I’m not out to my parents yet,” I whisper. “Mia knows. And Felix. But there’s so much going on with my parents right now. I can’t tell them yet.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. He doesn’t let go of my hand, so I’m becoming hopeful that this isn’t a dealbreaker.

“You’re okay with that?” I confirm.

“Yeah. This is your process. A year ago, when I was in the same grade that you’re in now, I had just driven through Wendy’s. I’m not going to judge your process,” he assures me.

“Wow. I totally did not think you’d be as okay with this as you are,” I admit. “You just seem so… out.”

“I am very… out,” he mimics. “But you’re not, and I really like you, Victor. I’m not going to say that I’ll wait forever, but I get you wanting to wait for things to calm down at home.”

“Thanks.” I feel really lucky right now. I didn’t think I could ever think of being gay as a good thing but here with Benji? It feels like the best. It’s kind of like I thought it would be like stepping on a venomous snake, except it turns out that snake has healing powers and can cure all known afflictions. That’s where I’m at right now. I feel invincible.

It’s so surreal to go to work and spend HOURS with Benji. Everything feels so much flirtier. It takes actual effort to stop smiling, so I stop trying.

I don’t think my feet touch the ground the rest of the week. Even Pilar and my mom’s fighting can’t get to me.

Unfortunately, that part doesn’t last forever. Eventually, I come down from my cloud and resume my usual duties as the family fixer. And that’s how I get roped into a birthday party.

I ask Benji about it Monday at lunch. I pull him into that locker alcove, the alcove I’ve been thinking of as our alcove. “Do you want to meet my parents?” I ask him quietly. “My mom wants to throw me a birthday party on Saturday. I was thinking that it will be hard for them to hate me on my birthday, so maybe you can come over and I can…”

Benji’s eyes are wide, as if he can’t believe his ears. “You’re coming out?” he asks.

I nod. It seems like Benji doesn’t have the words to express his enthusiasm, but you know what they say: a kiss is worth a thousand words. We write entire novels during lunch.

As scared as I am at the prospect of coming out, I’m even more excited to be out. I want to stop hiding Benji. I want to be able to sit and properly eat lunch with him… or maybe dinner because I think I’ve become addicted to our lunchtime ritual.

Friday, my world comes to a halting stop during first period when Andrew grabs my arm and says, “follow me.” We walk to an empty row of lockers. “Are you cheating on Mia?”

“What?” I ask. I thought this was going to be about basketball, so I’m completely floored by his question.

“I saw you with Benji yesterday. Are you cheating on Mia?” he demands. He looks pissed.

Crap. Benji was right. We should have been more careful. I didn’t think there was anyone around. And he had drawn this picture of me, and he gave it to me just because. I’ve never gotten a just-because gift before, and it made me fall the teensiest bit in love with him. And I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to him. But I guess I should have practiced more restraint and waited until we were in our alcove. I shouldn’t have taken the risk.

“Keep your voice down. I’m not cheating on her.”

“I saw you,” he repeats.

I shake my head. “Mia and I broke up the night of that basketball game,” I quickly explain. “I figured everyone knew that by now.”

“Does she know that you broke up with her because of Benji?” he questions.

“Yeah. I told her the truth. I told her I’m into guys.” I can’t look at him as I say that. All I hear is him asking me my very first day here if I liked what I saw. “Look. I’m with Benji, but I haven’t told my parents. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“No, of course not. I would never,” he assures me.

I surprise myself, but I actually believe him. “Thanks. Mia’s really lucky to have a friend like you.”

Before he has the chance to say anything, Coach finds him. “Spencer,” he calls. “I wanted to run a new drill by you.”

I quickly excuse myself and freeze as I round the corner. I can hear EVERY word that coach is saying to Andrew. It kind of echoes around the locker room. I look at my classmates who are pointedly avoiding eye contact with me.

Shit.

By lunch, it seems like the whole school knows. Benji finds me at my locker. “What happened?” he asks with a bewildered look on his face.

“Andrew saw us yesterday. He thought I was still with Mia, so he asked me about it. We didn’t realize everyone in the locker room could hear us.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. But I have to find Pilar,” I tell him.

“Yeah. Of course. Go,” he assures me.

“I’ll see you at work?” I confirm. He nods.

It’s the first lunch we’re not spending in our little alcove, but I can’t fully focus on that. I’m trying to find my sister.

It takes me almost the entire lunch before I find her hiding out in the library. “Pilar,” I say softly.

I expect her usual attitude. I expect bitterness and anger and a little bit of yelling, so I’m surprised when she hugs me. “I heard about Benji. Is this you?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah,” I admit. I’m still so thrown off; I haven’t returned her hug.

“Okay.”

I finally manage to wrap my arms around her. I kiss the top of her head. “I’m telling mom and dad tomorrow.”

She pulls back. “Vic, I love you, and I’m cool with this. But are you sure you want to tell them? You know them.”

“I’m sure. I know that the chances of them being okay with this are slim, but I’m done hiding.”

I actually believe that I’ll do it right up until my Abuela Nati and Abuelo Tito walk into our apartment the morning of my party.

Felix is already here, and I don’t think he fully understands my fear. I told him I was coming out, but my grandparents are an unexpected complication. There’s a slim chance of my parents being okay with this, but there’s a nonexistent chance of my grandparents accepting it.

I can’t do this. Not in front of them. I intercept Benji when he arrives. “Hey, change of plans. I’m not doing this today. My grandparents are here. I can’t tell them. They will not understand, and it will cause a huge fight because my abuelo has no filter. I really don’t want there to be fighting on my birthday.

“It’s okay,” he assures me. “I told you; this is your process.”

We join the party and it’s actually pretty smooth. Benji is charming and personable. Everyone loves him.

“Hey. Can we sneak away for a moment?” he asks quietly as everyone’s eating cake.

I nod. “I’m gonna get a drink,” I announce as I stand up.

“Me too,” Benji adds.

We withdraw to the hallway. It’s not visible from the family room, so we’re safe. “What’s up?” I ask.

“I just wanted to give you your gift,” he tells me.

“You already got me a gift,” I point out.

“Kissing you doesn’t count,” he says dryly.

I grin. “It should. But that’s actually not what I meant. You drew me that picture.”

“That hardly counts,” he scoffs. He pulls a tiny box out of his jacket. All that’s inside is a thin gold chain. “This might sound cheesy, but I have the same one.” He shakes his arm so his jacket slides down, and I can see the thin gold band around his wrist. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

In what world would I not want to wear this? I’m seriously in danger of developing some kind of heart condition because the heart palpitations he gives me cannot be good for me. “I love it. Help me put it on?” I ask. I hold out my wrist, and he secures the clasp of the bracelet. “This feels like a boyfriend level gift.”

“I hope it is,” he says seriously.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I am. Is that okay?” he asks nervously. As if he thinks I might say no.

I smile and nod. I grab his hand and squeeze it. “I’d really like that. I’m really glad that you’re here. And I’m really sorry that I didn’t come out today. I’ll tell them once my grandparents leave. On the bright side, I think they love you. That should help when they realize you’ve corrupted me.”

“Oh? I’m the one who corrupted you, huh?” he asks. There’s a glint in his eyes.

“Obviously,” I tease.

“Victor,” my dad says. “A word please.”

I drop Benji’s hand like it’s a live snake. I can’t look at him as I walk to the kitchen. Maybe my dad didn’t see us. “What’s up?” I ask innocently.

“What was that? In the hallway?” he demands. Abuelo Tito is standing behind him with his arms crossed and his usual grumpy expression.

“Nothing,” I tell him.

“Really? Because it looked like you were holding hands with that maricon.”

“Papi,” I say shocked. He rarely uses language like that.

“What?” he challenges.

“Really, that was nothing,” I tell him. “It’s just a thing Benji does. It doesn’t mean anything for me. Benji’s just a guy I work with. That’s it.”

“He gay?” my dad asks. I look at the ground. “I think you should ask him to leave.”

“No need. I think I’m going to go.” I turn. I had no idea Benji followed me.

“Wait. Benji.” I catch up with him right outside my apartment. “What’s wrong?”

“I get that you’re not ready to come out, but just a guy you work with?” he asks incredulously. “Not even your friend. Just a guy you work with.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t mean –”

“I think you said exactly what you meant to say. And didn’t say exactly what you didn’t mean to say. I’m not ashamed to be gay. Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?”

“I saw you when your dad asked if I was gay,” he points out.

“I just didn’t know what to say,” I tell him.

“Really? It’s just a thing Benji does. It doesn’t mean anything to me,” he mimics. “You certainly seemed to figure out something to say then.”

I look down. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure you are. Victor, I know this is your process, and I get that you have to be ready to come out before you do it, but I also respect myself too much to let you drag me down like that. It’s okay if you’re not ready to come out, but what you did in there? That wasn’t okay.”

I feel like my heart is beating in slow motion. A single heartbeat reverberates through my whole being. He’s right. I could have handled that whole thing so much better. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

“I think you are. And I think you need to take some time to figure out if you’re really ready for a relationship,” he tells me. “I really like you, and I really hope you are ready. But I can’t make that decision for you.”

I let him walk away because he’s right. He can’t make that decision for me. I have to make it, and it will probably be better that he’s not here for that.

I walk back in. My dad and abuelo rejoined everyone else in the family room. I feel like everything around me is moving so much faster as I walk towards them.

“Where’s Benji?” Pilar asks when I get to the family room.

“He went home,” I said quietly. I look at my dad. “I lied. What you saw in the hallway? That’s not just a thing that Benji does. And it means a lot to me. And Benji’s not just a guy from work. Mom. Dad. Abuelo. Abuela. This isn’t how I wanted to do this, but… I just hurt someone really important to me because I was scared of how you would react. And that’s not who I want to be. Benji’s my boyfriend. I’m gay.”

I’m looking at the floor. “Oh, look at the time. Adrian? I think there’s a new unboxing video we should show Felix,” Pilar says.

“I don’t think – ” Felix starts to say.

“Now,” Pilar states in her don’t-mess-with-me voice.

“Right.” Pilar, Felix, and Adrian disappear into her bedroom.

There’s complete silence around me. I don’t know if I should say something or if I should wait for them to say something. I give it a few unbearably long minutes. My mom is silently crying to herself, my abuelos are not looking at me, and my dad just looks shocked. “Mom? Dad?” I ask. Still nothing.

“I should clean up,” my dad says.

“I’ll help.” My mom gets up and follows him to the kitchen.

“Abuelo?” I ask. He doesn’t even acknowledge me. Great. The silent treatment.

I go to my bedroom because I don’t know what else to do. Felix checks in with me before he leaves, but I’m not in a particularly conversational mood.

Sunday, it’s like it never happened with my parents. My abuelos still aren’t talking to me, which is the only confirmation I have that I didn’t imagine the whole thing. I don’t get to talk to Benji on Sunday but that’s mostly because I’m still waiting for my parents to react. I’m beginning to wonder if they’re going to spend the rest of my life pretending that I’m not gay.

I try to bring it up over dinner, but I just get more silence.

My dad comes to see me after dinner. He sits in my desk chair. “This is new to us,” he says after a long, long silence. “You’re going to have to be patient with us. We don’t understand this part of you, and we don’t like it, but we love you. That will have to be enough for you.”

And then he’s gone, and I have absolutely no clue how I’m supposed to feel about that. Should I be relieved that they still love me? Or sad that they’re essentially picking and choosing the parts of me that they love? Or confused. Yeah, I’m going to go with confused.

Monday, my mind is utterly consumed with finding Benji at lunch. It’s easy to spot him. He’s sitting at a round table by himself. “Benji!” I call.

He sees me, gets up, and walks the other direction. I stop walking and stare. I’d somehow convinced myself that he would have forgiven me by now. I need to do something to show him how sorry I am. It needs to be something big.

Our conversation from my first day at Brasstown came back to me. About meaningful big moments.

How’s this for meaningful, Benji?

I climb on a table, and I feel the adrenaline coursing through me. “I threw a wish in the well. Don’t ask me; I’ll never tell,” I sing. I’m trying to copy Benji’s version which has been stuck in my head on repeat since Battle of the Bands, and I try to ignore how horrible I find my singing voice. Benji turns to look at me, his eyes wide. “I looked at you as it fell, and now you’re in my way. I beg and borrow and steal. At first sight, and it’s real. I didn’t know I would feel it, but it’s in my way. Your stare was holdin’. Ripped jeans, skin was showin’. Hot night, wind was blowin’.”

I jump off the table and sing louder. “Where you think you’re going baby?”

I start to take small steps towards him. “Hey, I just met you. And this is crazy. But here’s my number. So, call me maybe.”

I stop. I’m maybe two steps away from him. The rest is up to him. “It’s hard to look right at you baby. But here’s my number. So, call me maybe.”

The silence is almost deafening when I stop singing, and it really hits me that I actually just did this. I actually just made a complete ass of myself in front of half of the school.

I’m starting to worry that maybe it was too much. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. The silence is suffocating.

Then Benji recovers and he’s kissing me, and it’s like I can breathe again. There’s cheering around us, and I wonder if this is how Simon felt.

It’s a short-lived thought because there’s little room for anything other than Benji as we kiss. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his. “I am so sorry about Saturday. They all know now. My mom, dad, and grandparents. I came out to all of them. You asked if I was ready for a relationship, and I am. I’m ready for you, Benji.”

Benji closes his eyes. “I love you.”

That breaks through my haze. I stare at him. “You… I love you too,” I tell him.

This time I mean it; I’m never going to stop smiling.


End file.
